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The curse of Netflix

January 7, 2020

I don’t know why I ever think it’s a good idea to check out anything on Netflix. When was the last time doing so didn’t end badly? Hmm, let me have a think. Oh, yes, I’m pretty sure the answer is never.

And so it was last night after dinner.

In a recent list of streaming shows worth watching there was a favourable mention of Messiah, a new Netflix show about the CIA and Israeli intelligence investigation of a middle eastern man being acclaimed as the messiah by many Jews, Christians and Muslims. The review suggested that, despite being a bit bonkers in places, it was well worth a punt. Okay, I thought, let’s check out an episode. Or two.

And so it goes. (As Billy Pilgrim was fond of saying in Slaughterhouse Five.)

Two episodes in and I was kinda hooked. It was only just gone 10pm and the episodes were only 45 minutes long, so plenty of time for another episode (or two) before my go-to-bed-and-read time. Oh, ha, bloody ha. Finished watching the tenth and final episode at 4:40am. (Yes, Satan, I can hear you chortling. Just shut up, will you?)

Oh, well. As Scarlett O’Hara was fond of saying, tomorrow is another day.

Other news (to pad this out) from my little life…

I did get at least one thing accomplished yesterday. (If there was more than one, I don’t remember what the others were.) Being Twelfth Night (and not the Shakespeare play) and wishing to avoid bad luck, I removed all the decorations from the Yule tree and took it down. Ditto the Christmas cards. Bad luck avoided.

And there was an interesting discovery.

During panto prep, I got a bit lackadaisical about adding peanuts to the feeder every day for the jays.

jay feeder

When I finally got around to topping it up regularly, the nuts began to disappear. Hurrah! The jays hadn’t abandoned me.

Yesterday I heard a tap on the window, telling me someone was at the feeder. Stopped what I was doing and went into the diningroom to watch the show.

Oh. Not a jay. It seems a squirrel has discovered the feeder. To be honest, he (or she) is a lot better at getting the peanuts out of the slinky. Having four paws is an obvious advantage. Still. A squirrel? Find your own nuts, Rocky.

From → Black dog diary

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